Starting Over

I think my teachers and the priests breathed a great sigh of release when I moved and had to be transferred to another catholic school. They said they would miss me, but I didn’t believe them for a second…they looked too relieved!

If I thought a new school would be any different, I had another thing coming. And, if my family thought a new school would give me a fresh start and keep me out of trouble, they had another thing coming. If anything, it gave me more power to get into even more mischief because now I would meet my partner in crime, my soon to be best friend. I don’t think catholic schools were ready for the two of us, at least not together.

It was the middle of my fourth grade year. The sun beamed down on our little schoolyard with the children gaily skipping rope, or racing each other from one end of the yard to the other, or standing around gabbing excitedly with their friends about this thing or that. I sat upon the steps to our school with two of my friends, Rochelle and Tenisha. Tenisha braided my hair, while Rochelle talked incessantly about the great injustices done to the black race. I didn’t disagree. Great injustices were done to many groups of people. I listened.

We were called the “Oreos” because they were black, and I was white. (It was okay to say black then; you have to say African American now to be proper. I wonder, does that mean I should be called Italian/Irish instead of just plain 'ole American?) You could usually find me in the middle and Rochelle and Tenisha on either side of me, and this was how we earned our nickname. It didn’t bother me, very little did.

I watched as a black car pulled up the driveway and a blonde-haired girl got out. “Who do you think that is?” I said to no one in particular. Rochelle, barely pausing from her long spiel, said, “Oh, great another white girl, like there isn’t enough white children in our school to try and suppress the creativity of the minority black children trying to learn here!”

Stifling a giggle, I ignored her and looked back at Tenisha, who rolled her eyes. Being the pioneer of the bunch and a seasoned veteran of six months in my new school, I yelled, “Let’s go find out!” and, jumping up, led the way. Tenisha shared my enthusiasm and followed close behind. Rochelle cautiously hung behind Tenisha still rambling on.

I ran up to the new girl and breathlessly stopped in front of her so quickly that Tenisha nearly rear-ended me. “Are you new?” Tenisha blurted out. I laughed and squealed, “Duh!” We all laughed. We found out her name was Elizabeth but liked to be called Beth, and she immediately was at home with our small group of “rebels”.

The Meeting

The dismissal bell screeched me back to reality. I hadn't really heard any of my afternoon classes; I was still sulking over confession. Confused by my own behavior, I found myself trying to understand it all and make some sense of it. Hours later and I wasn't any closer to figuring it out.

Like a zombie I filed into line and, somewhat in a fog, shuffled out of the school building, quiet and pensive. My teacher gave me an odd glance but was probably relieved she didn't have to deal with me for the day. "Hey!" I almost kept walking, forgetting my meeting.

"Oh hi!" I said without much enthusiasm. Steven searched my face for a moment but whatever he thought he saw he never let on. He grabbed my schoolbag and shoved my lunchbox into it, swung it over his other shoulder, and took my hand. The next thing I knew we were running down the street away from my house. Laughing I managed a "Where are we going? I live that way!" reaching back to point in the direction of my home.

"I know. I wanna take you somewhere." We ran all the way to Hoffman Park, a local hangout that I had never been without adult supervision before. My uncle and I would often come here with Puddles who bit at rocks in the creek...such a strange dog. The trellis extended over the water, and Richie would make me walk across it. He never did, though. He would always make me do the craziest, most adventurous things, but it just dawned on me, he never participated. Interesting.

Steven came to an abrupt halt with me almost running into him. "You wanna cross over to the other side?" I had done it easily before, skipping across the tops of rocks, without any trouble at all so I nodded. The playground was on this side of the creek; the other side was definitely quieter. It was like being in the woods and because you had to cross the creek to get there, not many people would venture over. This time, though, would present a challenge I wasn't expecting. My patent leather school shoes were not conducive to hopping from rock to rock, and I found myself slipping all over the place. All I could think was how I would explain coming home soaking wet to my grandmother. Luckily, I wouldn't have to.

Hand outstretched Steven helped me jump the rest of the way to land. We climbed up to the top of the bank and sat silently for a time. He shot me a concerned glance. "You aren't going to get in trouble, are you?"

"Probably." I answered. "But it'll be okay. You?"

"Nah. My parents are both working. No one is there when I get home."

"Oh.' I whispered thinking that was sad. My parents were never home during the work week, which could be perceived as a good thing, but at least my Nan was there for me.

We chatted about most everything: skating, school, classmates but both of us steered clear of talking about our families like it was some unwritten agreement. Just as I was thinking, I had better be getting home before my grandmom had a search party out looking for me, he kissed me. Not just a peck on the cheek kind of kiss, but my first real kiss, a long one on the lips! Whoa! Staring into my eyes, he said, "I better get you home before I'm never allowed to see you again." I was, for once in my life, at a loss for words. Did this mean I officially had a boyfriend?

A Day in the Life of Me, Part One

Most of my trips into my inner worlds or dreams were happy, and I was content to allow the quiet of the night lull me into the grand adventures that awaited. Occasionally, though, my dreams would take me into darkness; I wasn't so fond of those.

Although I was almost 8 outwardly, I was only an infant in this dream, crawling through a long, narrow tunnel. I would not have enough room to stand in it if I were capable of doing so, and there was only enough room to reach my arms out in either direction. The darkness was impenetrable except for an illumination directly on and around me like it funneled from the top in the shape of a triangle downward. I could feel my fear and anxiety as I cautiously moved forward, hesitating with each small step. Suddenly, a hand shoots up out from under and grabs me. I awaken with a startle, crying.

The sun is beginning to shine through my window, wiping away the darkness leftover from the evening, and beckoning me to a new day. I wipe my tears with my sheets and take a deep breath. I had been having this dream for as long as I could remember dreaming, and I couldn't remember a time when I didn't dream.

Soon after Nan entered my bedroom. Hearing her shuffling down the hallway, I squeezed my eyes shut. "Tammy, time to get up, honey. Time for school." I pretended not to hear. I hated school. What was the point? She sighed, came closer, and shook me. "I know you're awake, and I know you heard me. Let's go." It was my turn to sigh.

"Ah, Nan, I don't feel good, and I didn't sleep either."

"Come on, Tammy, none of this… Out of bed now!" The tone of her voice made me stand up and take notice. She would have none of it today so, defeated, I threw back the covers and jumped out of bed. She turned and gazed at me as she was walking out my door. "Oh, look! You are cured! It's a miracle!" Her sarcasm was not lost on me.

(To be continued...)

Adam and Eve

Being a stubborn child, I had to test everything. If you told me not to touch the electrical outlet, I would touch it anyway. What was knowledge without the experience? This would pour over into my entire life. This seemed to be the cause of my pain as well as my joy. Gems are most often found after looking under a lot of rocks. I don’t think grown-ups looked at it that way, though. My inquisitive nature was more of a thorn in their side than a blessing.

One day, during religion class, Miss Conrad read to us the story of Adam and Eve. Immediately afterward she asked us what we thought. My hand promptly shot into the air. She looked around the room like she was begging for someone else to put their hand up, but mine was the only one.

“Yes, Tammy?”

"I don’t think it’s true.”

“Well, of course, it is. It’s in the Bible. The Bible is the Word of God.”

Without pause, I replied, “No. Why would God, who is ALL-loving make ALL people for ALL time be punished because of two people’s mistakes? And it’s not like a really big mistake or anything. Eve shared an apple with Adam. Big deal! God wants us to share. You even said that!”

“Yes, God does want us to share. Adam and Eve had all the Garden of Eden to share, except for this one apple. God told them they were not allowed to eat that apple, and they disobeyed.”

I tried to process this and, just as my teacher thought it was safe to move on, I interjected, “What does God care about one dumb apple when they had the whole Garden of Eden?” My classmates laughed.

My teacher, knowing I had the potential to make this an all day discussion, threw in the towel. She asked us to pull out our math books. I raised my hand. She looked away so I waved it real big to get her attention. She turned her back to me. I yelled, “Miss Conrad. Miss Conrad.”

“What is it, Tammy?”

"We aren’t supposed to start math for ten more minutes and…”

“Today we will do things differently. Open your book to page one hundred forty-six, class.” I shrugged. I don’t get grown-ups. They do the strangest things, and they don’t like to answer questions either.

Confession

“Father, how much sin is too much sin?”

I heard a sigh escape him, and I peered through my thick, ugly glasses at him. He shifted in his seat. A tall, thin younger man with jet-black hair and deep, dark eyes stared back at me. He cleared his voice.

“Tammy, this is a confession. It is not a time for questions.” He turned his eyes forward and clutched his hands together, preparing himself to hear my long list of indiscretions.

Not willing to let go just yet I squeaked, “Why not?”

A bigger, deeper breath gusts out from his pursed lips. “Why not what?”

“Why isn’t it the time for questions?”

Already exasperated he said with feigned patience, “Because, Tammy, we have others waiting in line. It would not be fair to them if we sat here and chit-chatted.”

Satisfied that I would understand this, he once again faced, or perhaps braced would be a better description, himself towards the altar. I had other things in mind. “But confessions are about sins. And I’m asking how much is too much?” I leaned forward in my pew so I could see his face better. He looked like he was praying. I waited, but he seemed quiet for an awfully long time. I wondered if he were okay.

“Father?” No answer. I poked his arm and said a little louder in a whining voice, “Faaaattthheeerr!”

Maybe that was too loud. My voice echoed all around me, bouncing off the large, stone cold walls. Muffled laughter came from the line of children in back of me. Sister gave them one of those “Be quiet or else” looks then turned to me with another familiar look, “Sit up straight and quit your whining.” Wow! She’s good! I sat straighter and slid back letting the wood shoulder of the pew touch mine.

Father looked startled but was quick with his decision. “Tammy, if I agree to come to your religion class one day this week, can we get on with your confession?” I thought about it, rubbing my fingers across my chin.

"Tomorrow?”

“Uh…well…I don’t know about tomorrow.”

I itched my nose and said, “Why? Do you have to think about it?” He picked up his Bible and sat it upon his lap, perhaps looking for inspiration.

“It may be tomorrow, but it may also be another day. I need to check Sister Ann’s schedule.” His voice was firm and taking on an impatient tone.

I shrugged, and then began. “Father, please forgive me for I have sinned. It’s been…um…” Oh no! I couldn’t remember how many days, but I didn’t dare say that. What should I do? I took a deep breath and did what any other kid would do who was backed into a corner…the ones that were smart anyway. I improvised.

“It’s been fifty days since my last confession.” I announced matter of factly. Father’s eyebrows shot upward. Glancing at me out of the corner of his eyes, he said, “Fifty?”

“Well, I don’t actually remember exactly, but fifty sounds good.” I saw a small grin try to come up on the corner of his lips, but he cleared his voice again and sat up straighter. I wondered if Sister Anne yelled at him for not sitting up straight too.

“Continue.” he said his voice sounding tired. I thought about how I should probably work my way up from the smaller to the bigger offenses so as not to put him to shock or anything.

(To Be Continued...)



*** Some names have been changed for privacy sake and to protect the innocent.